


Thinking Sorry

by MrProphet



Category: Discworld - Terry Pratchett
Genre: Child Death, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-22
Updated: 2017-04-22
Packaged: 2018-10-22 11:58:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10696557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrProphet/pseuds/MrProphet





	Thinking Sorry

The girl was only eight, but the hacking ague did not discriminate; she had less than a week to live now that her parents had passed. Death would have been aware that this was what mortals would call ‘unfair’ even if the child’s mother had not been at pains to point it out to him.

“Do you think it’s fair?” she challenged. She was staring to fray at the edges, but her concern for her daughter was keeping her tied very strongly to life, in defiance of her new state of being.

IT IS NOT FAIR, Death agreed. IT JUST IS.

“But look at her,” the woman insisted. “How can she cope on her own?”

SHE CANNOT, Death replied.

“She’ll starve on her own.”

NO. SHE HAS ALREADY CONTRACTED THE DISEASE WHICH KILLED YOU AND YOUR HUSBAND. IT WILL CLAIM HER IN FIVE DAYS, SEVENTEEN HOURS AND FIVE MINUTES.

The woman was silent.

GIVE OR TAKE.

Spectral tears glistened in the woman’s eyes. “Can’t… can’t you do something?”

Death paused for a moment. I… CAN, he admitted.

“Then…”

BUT I WILL NOT. I DID SO ONCE BEFORE. MY ADOPTED DAUGHTER SPENT MANY… NOT ENTIRELY HAPPY YEARS ALONE IN MY REALM AND AT LAST I HAD TO SEND HER OUT WITH HER DAYS QUITE LITERALLY NUMBERED.

IT WAS… He paused, searching for the right words. UNFAIR.

“But what about  _my_  daughter? What if  _she_  was your daughter? What would you want for her?”

Death looked at the woman long and hard; she did not turn from the blue flicker of his gaze. YOU WILL NOT TELL ANYONE? He asked.

“I swear,” she told him.

Death stalked towards the girl and knelt in front of him. He leaned forward and whispered in her ear. Although she could not see the skeletal figure, she heard the words and she nodded.

Death stood and stalked back to his horse. He lifted the scythe from the saddlebow.

“What are you doing?” the woman asked.

There was a whispering cry as the scythe swung through the air.

The small body fell, and the child ran to her mother’s arms.

KEEPING THE FAMILY TOGETHER, Death replied. If his voice had been capable of expressing sorrow, it would have done so now.


End file.
